


Silent Night

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about a Christmas Miracle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

> The story and cover art is for andeincascade, first posted in 2002. Revised in 2008. 
> 
> Trust me - no warning is necessary, no matter what you think at the beginning :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**"There'd be no more lives torn apart...."**

Fifteen minutes was a long time to stand in front of a closet. Fifteen minutes and counting. Hell, all Jim had to do was reach out and take the suit - but if he did, he'd have to put it on - and if he put it on - he'd have to go, and if he went - he'd lose it.

The whole 'not losing it' had been the only thing keeping him sane the last four months, but then, sanity was highly overrated. With a certain degree of fascination, Jim watched his own shaking, thin, too-pale hand take the suit from the hanger.

Evidently he was going - and evidently - he'd finally lose it - in public.

***

Simon adjusted his tie, all the while staring at the strange man who glared back at him from the other side of the mirror. Unless he was mistaken, that other Simon's expression was definitely accusatory.

Simon turned away and snapped off the bathroom light.

Walking down the hall and into the living room, he experienced another surge of gratitude that Daryl was spending Christmas with his mother - and New Year's with him. Tonight would have been that much more difficult if his son had been here too.

Simon picked up his coat from the back of the chair, slipped it on, and double checked that he had his keys. With a last glance at his home, he flipped off the light and walked out into the cold, wintery night. Unlocking his car door, he glanced back at the dark silent house and swore that he would decorate before Daryl arrived on the twenty-sixth.

***

Megan stood on the sidewalk and, as Pete slipped his suit jacket on, she looked up at the church steeple. It stood bright and serene against the night sky, but Megan took no comfort in the sight. She knew this evening was special, important even, but that didn't erase the sadness.

"Ready to go inside?" Pete asked solicitously.

"No," she answered honestly.

He put his arms around her waist and, gratefully, she leaned into his strength. This was going to be so hard tonight and she couldn't help but wonder how Jim would cope. Would he even come?

God, she almost hoped not.

***

Simon pulled into the parking lot of the Good Shepherd Church, circled once, found a space, and swung in. He shut off the engine and lights but, having no desire to get out, he stayed where he was. Others were moving up the brick steps to the church and Simon thought he recognized a few faces, but no one from Major Crime. Of course, they could already be inside. Simon glanced around the parking lot and noticed the absence of Jim's truck. Holding up his wrist so that the nearby street lamp could illuminate the dial on his watch, he checked the time. Jim still had ten minutes.  
He'd be here. Of that, and little else, Simon was certain. Resigned, he swiped a hand over his face before finally getting out of the car.

***

Rafe and Henri rode silently in Taggart's car. Joel drove with a concentration that said loud and clear, "Don't talk about it." Rafe and Henri were acquiescing to his unstated wishes for the simple reason that neither of them wanted to talk either.

But if they had - they too would have wondered if Jim would actually come - and if he did, would he come _inside_? None of them could envision their friend 'not' being there - and yet - all three silently wondered if their friend was truly strong enough to make it inside.

***

 

Jim gave a last look at the barren apartment, his gaze landing on the menorah that sat on the coffee table. Chanukah was long over but there it sat. It was the only item of Blair's left at 852 Prospect.

With a hopeless shake of his head, Jim walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him. There was no need to shut off a light -- Jim hadn't used any in four months.

On his way downstairs, Jim caught glimpses of holiday wreaths tacked onto the front doors of the other apartments, but felt no guilt that only 307 remained undecorated -- inside and out.

Outside, more of the holiday assaulted him. Lit wreaths hung from every lamp post and in almost every window - whether a private residence or shop. Christmas was somehow displayed in every manner and form. Jim looked away, jogged over to the truck, climbed in and pulled onto Prospect.

Driving through the quiet but decorated streets, he tried desperately not to think. His route took him down Ocean Avenue and he winced. Damn, he should have remembered and taken a detour. Almost against his will he looked to his right and spotted the green belt that ran above the shoreline. Joggers used it for their runs and it had always been a favorite spot for Sandburg.

Jim's gaze rested on the picturesque railing that separated the grass from the marina, and finally on the anchored and tethered boats. For a reason he couldn't fathom, his mind went back to the last time he and Sandburg had stood at that railing--

_The unusually warm, early evening breeze wafted in through the windows of his home. Seeing that it was after six and Sandburg still wasn't home, Jim figured, with this heat, Sandburg would be at the Marina, the only place in the city with a breeze._

_For days, Jim had been hearing rumors that Sandburg was going to ask a fellow TA named Virginia to marry him. Now, hoping that his partner would be alone while enjoying the cooler air, Jim decided to head over to the Marina and quiz him - in his usual subtle manner - about any upcoming engagement. He picked up his keys and headed out._

_During the drive, he tried to find the right words - and courage - to actually ask about the rumor. Just that morning he'd overheard Rhonda telling Conner that she'd seen Sandburg in a jewelry store purchasing a wedding ring. Jim had nearly spewed his coffee even as the room tilted and his stomach lurched._

_Blair, buying a ring? For God's sake, no one had even met this 'Virginia' yet. How could he even be thinking of marriage? And wouldn't Jim be the first one Blair would tell? Hell, yeah. But not only had he said nothing about marriage - he'd said less than nothing about her! Not that Jim hadn't seen her, because he had. Just last Monday, he'd gone to the University in hopes of taking Sandburg to lunch. He'd found him sitting at a table in the library with a tall, willowy, dark-haired woman. Their heads had been bent close together as they studied and spoke in soft tones. Jim couldn't help hearing her name: Virginia._

_Jim had immediately changed his mind and left without so much as a hello.  
Now while looking for his partner, he found himself wondering about her, wondering what she had that could so entrance Sandburg that he'd ask her to marry him after such a short time._

_Jim finally spotted Blair not far from the Harbor Master's office. He parked and walked slowly toward his friend, still uncertain about how to ask about marriage plans, Virginia, and the recently purchased wedding ring. Coming alongside his friend, Jim found himself at a loss for words, so simply said, "Somehow, I knew I'd find you here, Chief."_

_"Hey, man, coolest place in town."_

_Jim nodded and both men went silent while they watched the bay light up in the approaching darkness. Finally Jim shifted his gaze from the view to his partner._

_The younger man stood easily at the railing, the breeze ruffling his now shorter curls. He wore his work clothes, and even though the flannel had given way to chambray shirts and chinos - not to mention the occasional suit and tie - the man was still Sandburg. The frenetic energy might have been somewhat tamed, and words were fewer now, but Jim was still looking at his "Chief"._

_Of course, Sandburg was now "Doctor Sandburg", which was why he'd finally abandoned the comfortable look of his TA days._

_It had been two years since Major Crime had attended the ceremony and dinner that brought Blair his doctorate, and while everyone had assumed that Blair would move out, he hadn't. Neither man had been able to find a single good reason why he should, so he'd stayed._

_He was also on payroll with the Cascade Police Department and worked exclusively with Jim in an offshoot of Major Crime called the Special Crimes Unit. They still reported to Simon, but Jim was now a Lieutenant. Sandburg, in an effort to be of even more use to the PD, had gone back to school for his degree in psychology, which was how he'd met Virginia._

_In all reality, their lives hadn't changed much since the doctorate (on a subject other than sentinels). Both simply had more responsibility and more money. In fact, Sandburg made more money than Jim, and while that had been the source of some good-natured ribbing, the truth was that Jim was thrilled that his partner was finally reaping the monetary rewards he deserved._

_While Jim continued to stare at his friend, he finally found the nerve to bring up Virginia._

_"So - I understand that you're thinking of getting married, Chief?" he asked with a smile._

_"Where did you hear that?" Blair responded softly._

_"You know the rumor mill in a police department. This rumor even has you buying a ring at Winston Jewelers."_

_Jim could see the wry half-smile that graced his partner's face as he said, "Gotta love those rumor mills."_

_Jim was about to ask more, but their pagers started a synchronized duet and a couple of minutes later they were rolling on a case, Virginia all but forgotten._

Staring at the Marina now, Jim remembered later that same September evening, after work, he'd given serious thought to getting back with Carolyn. She'd been in town that week and the two of them had met for a couple of lunches and dinners. She'd been less than subtle about her desire to "try again" as she'd put it. In fact, the same day Jim heard the ring rumor, he'd talked briefly with Simon about Carolyn's desires but hadn't been able to give his boss and friend a definitive answer about any reconciliation.

Only later, when following Blair to the scene of their call-out, had Jim thought that reuniting with his ex might not be such a strange notion, but as it had turned out, he'd told her no. He liked his life, even if he was about to lose his best friend to a psych major named Virginia.

The light ahead went red, thus bringing Jim back to the present. He slowed to a stop and so did his mind. Caro had finally flown back to San Francisco and was now engaged to a nice captain with the SFPD - and tonight - tonight Jim and many others would gather at the Good Shepherd Church and--

The light went green and Jim stomped down on both his thoughts and the accelerator.

***

**"And every man would have a friend…."**

The church was small, quaint, and non-denominational. Candles were lit near the altar and flowers were gathered on either side of the lectern. The lighting was very dim and soothing, the flickering candles adding a touch of beauty to the simple interior. A lovely stained glass window rose tall behind the altar and the full Christmas Eve moon gave life to every color in the window.

At the back of the church, Simon stepped forward in line and was met by a man who held out a small leaflet. He took it without glancing down and, spotting his crew, Simon made his way over. Rafe stood quickly and the others slid over to make room for their boss. Once settled, no one spoke. There was nothing to say.

Soft music played in the background and Simon was grateful that it wasn't Christmas music. Joel's soft voice caught his attention.

"Jim just walked in, Simon," Joel said.

Simon twisted his head around and nodded. He got up, walked down the aisle and, before Jim could slink into a back row, took his arm and guided him to the MC pew. The fact that Jim didn't protest told Simon all he needed to know. Everyone made room again, but this time, somehow, Jim ended up in the middle, flanked on both sides by his friends. It seemed right.

***

A hand landed on his shoulder and Jim looked down, then past Joel to see Megan's soft gaze on him. "I'm glad you came, Jim," was all she said. He managed to smile wanly while nodding at Pete, who nodded back.

For the first time since arriving, Jim looked at the altar. He'd known this  
would be the most difficult part, but he owed it to Sandburg. What he viewed brought forth an involuntary gasp followed by a barely choked back sob.

He was going to lose it, and he was going to lose it bad. A strong black hand took his and squeezed hard. Jim turned his head and looked at Joel, whose dark eyes were filling with tears. Somehow, seeing the love and understanding in Joel, Jim found his internal balance again, nodded his thanks, then looked back at the altar.

Three easels stood in a half-circle in front of the lectern. On each easel was a blow-up of a photograph and all three were framed with black crepe paper.

Jim had never met the woman whose face graced the photo on the left, but everyone knew that Officer Connie Esquevara had died during a family disturbance call. She'd been shot in the head by a fourteen-year-old boy who'd been trying to kill his father. At thirty-six years of age, she left behind a mother, father, two sisters and her husband of three weeks.

The photo to the right was of forty-six year old Detective Randall Sutton, a twenty-year veteran who'd been knifed in a bar. He, along with several other officers and detectives, had been trying to stop a small riot that had broken out following the Lakers NBA championship win. The man who'd stabbed Sutton had been a rabid Jags fan, and at the time of the riot, had been three sheets to the wind. Randy Sutton left behind his wife of twenty-five years, three children and four grandchildren.

The evening's service at the Good Shepherd Church represented a new tradition with the force, namely a memorial service on Christmas Eve to honor those men and women of the Cascade Police Department who had fallen during the year.

In 2002, three officers had been killed in the line of duty.

Jim's gaze was finally pulled, almost hypnotically, to the middle picture.

It was an enlargement of the photo ID taken for his new credentials. He was smiling; short dark curls framing his strong handsome face.

Doctor Blair Sandburg, Special Consultant to the SCU of Major Crime, thirty-two years old, killed September twenty-second at five-thirty in the afternoon.

Sandburg had been shot in the back when he threw himself in front of a pregnant woman and Daryl Banks. Jim remembered all too well how he and Sandburg had been called to the Saul Morris Memorial Park because a man by the name of Michael Alder had taken several people hostage. The man was the alleged lover of one of the hostages, Pamela Billings.

Mrs. Billings had broken up with Alder upon discovering that she was pregnant - with her husband's child. Michael didn't take the news of the break-up well and finally flipped out. He bought a gun and, on the day that Pam spent teaching senior citizens how to paint, he'd stormed the recreation hall waving the weapon and insisting that Pam leave her husband.

As it happened, Daryl, with three weeks left before 'reporting' to Rainier as a freshman, had also been at the park that day working as a camp counselor. He'd been in the storage room of the same hall where Alder made his stand, and it had been a call from his cell phone that had alerted the police. Oddly enough, Michael Alder never knew Daryl was there.

The police swarmed the park and secured the scene, at which time the negotiating team of Ellison and Sandburg took over. It had taken Blair less than thirty minutes to talk Michael into surrendering. Arms in the air, the man had come out, been cuffed, and then led away. The hostages were safe and paramedics had been on hand to help. The last two people to exit the building had been Daryl assisting a very distraught Pam Billings.

What no one could have anticipated was Adam Billings hearing about the situation over his car radio and that he was there, in the crowd, with his own gun. He'd moved through the throng of released hostages and, when within range, had pulled the weapon with every intent of shooting down his adulterous wife….

_Jim stood with Simon as the hostages were comforted and moved to various pairs of paramedics. At times like this, his sense of smell could be overwhelmed with the scent of fear and panic, but thanks to Blair, he was pretty good at dealing with it now. His mind automatically catalogued every scent - which was why he was so surprised when the smell of gun oil caught his attention. He was surrounded by cops and their weapons, he was used to that - but this scent was different; new. He turned toward it and spotted a man raise his arm, gun in hand, and take aim._

_Several feet away, Blair was approaching Daryl and Mrs. Billings but hearing an out-of-place sound, followed by several gasps, he immediately turned toward it and spotted the man a split second after Jim. Quickly alculating the distance between himself and Daryl, he made a powerful dive in an herculean effort to place himself between Daryl, the woman, and the gunman._

_Taking it all in with a single glance, Jim yelled out a frantic warning - but it was too late. The gunman fired._

_In motion picture-like slow motion, Jim watched Blair's body twist in mid-air and fall slowly to the ground. By the time he reached him, the sidewalk beneath Blair was already running red with his blood._

_Jim knelt beside him and, with great care, lifted his partner and cradled him in his arms. Every sentinel sense told him what he couldn't believe, what he didn't want to believe; Blair was dying._

_There was so much Jim wanted to say to him but there was no time, no chance to entreat Blair to stay, to staunch the blood - to do anything._

_On the bloody sidewalk in front of the park building, Jim heard the hated death rattle and wanted nothing more at that moment than for Blair to open his eyes, to see the blue, to see life -- one last time. Instead, Blair raised a weak hand from the ground and, as blood bubbled up and out of his mouth, murmured one word: "You."_

_Then nothing. No sound. No heartbeat._

_Blair had just taken his last breath._

_When the paramedics tried to take him from Jim, he fought until Simon, with softly spoken orders, got through to him. With an unbearable pain in his chest and a reluctance he barely understood, Jim finally let Blair go._

_The next several hours went by in a blue haze because all Jim knew was that the heartbeat he needed, depended upon, was gone. Blair ... was dead._

_Eventually other sounds intruded on the haze he preferred and he knew that Simon had called his father - and Naomi. Oddly enough, he found he couldn't drum up the strength to feel anything for her._

_***_

_Three days later Jim found himself standing with Naomi in a synagogue while useless words of comfort were spoken by a rabbi and a few days later, he and Naomi were in a small plane flying over the Chopec Valley and scattering the last remains of Doctor Blair Sandburg._

_Once back home, Naomi stayed with Jim and, with few words, they managed to find some comfort, but finally, as he'd known would happen, the memories of Blair that Cascade and the loft engendered in Naomi proved too much and, with a tearful farewell, she left the country to search for a different kind of healing._

_Without Naomi there, a constant presence and reminder to do the things one did to live, Jim slid into a routine that resulted in loss of weight. He tried to hide it because he didn't want people around, asking, pitying, interfering with his grief. He thought his grief would protect him from the truth Blair's death had revealed, and he was hostage in his own home. He could find fewer and fewer reasons to live._

_But mysteriously, he kept trying. He could have shut down his senses, but he didn't. Even dead, Blair was a force to be reckoned with and Jim understood that choosing to release his abilities would dishonor Blair. And eventually, he understood that dying would be the worse thing he could do for his partner, so he chose to remain a cop, to stay alive._

_As the weeks crawled by, as he faced his feelings for Blair, a degree of depression set in and, while he didn't actively seek death, he knew he'd welcome it if it came._

_Living without Sandburg was simply not life._

Jim stared at the enlarged photo of Blair and yearned to touch it, to trace an invisible line down Blair's strong jaw, to somehow feel stubble, and blood flowing beneath the skin - but he didn't. He knew he'd find only the feel of cardboard.

The memorial service began and people walked up to the podium to share thoughts and feelings about their loved ones or fallen friends. Simon spoke of Blair, of his energy, dedication, and the 'heart' he'd brought to Major Crime. Jim heard it but it was like white noise - he was too lost in his sense memory.

As everyone spoke, he found himself listening to his partner's voice and remembering his laugh. He remembered how Blair's hair thrilled sentinel senses and how his pulse felt racing beneath sentinel fingers. Jim dug even deeper and called up Blair's scent, then closed his eyes to revel in it.

Lost in the bright darkness of his memory, Jim prayed to be released so that he could join Blair. He prayed -- and he railed against the unfairness of Blair's death. He cursed himself and prayed again for release, knowing that even if it came, he'd be forced to refuse. Blair would hate him for giving up. So for Blair -- he had to continue.

For Blair.

Jim closed his eyes and dreamed of his partner. In the smallest, darkest corner of his soul, he prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in - for a miracle.

***

"Go on ahead," Simon instructed his friends. "Jim needs some privacy right now. I'll watch over him."

The others looked past Simon to the huddled figure still in the church pew.

"He looks so - alone," Megan said softly.

"He is. No matter how much we're here for him, ultimately he's without Blair, and therefore alone."

Everyone nodded at the truth of Simon's words. A few hugs were exchanged and the detectives of Major Crime walked outside. Simon turned back to join his friend.

As he walked down the aisle, he found a small part of himself praying for some kind of a miracle even if he wasn't sure what kind. But he _did_ believe in God and mercy - and miracles. So he prayed.

By the time he'd reached his friend, Jim was no longer seated in the pew. Instead, he'd moved to stand in front of the only photo still remaining. Simon felt the emotion tugging at him, begging for release, but he refused to give in. His own grief and guilt would have to wait.

"Jim, I know you want to be alone, but the more I think about it, the more I dislike the idea. Please come home with me?"

As if he'd heard not a word, Jim said, "I love him, Simon. Why couldn't I have admitted it while he was alive?"

Puzzled, but not shocked by the admission, Simon asked, "What good would telling him have done, Jim? Aren't you the one who told me that he was getting married?"

"Yes, but I think it was only because he never received the sign from me that he needed. We'd become so close in the months before he…before his…."  
Jim couldn't finish. He coughed, then swallowed hard. "Sometimes we'd look at each other and this...thing...would pass between us, you know? It was like we were both thinking the same thing. But I kept finding excuses for ignoring it and what I don't understand is -- why?"

Moving a step closer to the photo, Jim said, "Why, Chief? Why would I back off like that? You were offering me everything, all I had to do was accept. Why couldn't I do that?"

Simon stared at the smiling face in the photo. Damn, Jim was right, Blair had been offering all that he was to Jim, for God knew how long. Finally, hand on Jim's arm, he said softly, "Jim, he knows."

"Does he, Simon?" Jim asked, a touch of hope in his voice.

"I'm sure of it. Now please, come home with me."

"I…I will…but right now, I just need some time. I'll - join you later, I promise."

Simon rested his hand on Jim's shoulder, believing him, hearing the truth in the promise. "All right, but if you're not at my place by midnight, I'm putting out an APB," he teased.

Jim smiled but said nothing. Simon turned around and walked slowly out of the church.

Outside, he pulled his coat close and shivered slightly. It felt like snow. He gazed upward. The night was still and silent, the sky dotted with diamond-like stars that twinkled almost merrily. Simon found himself thinking that Blair would have loved it. He took a deep breath and walked down the steps. He needed to go home and call his son - who was celebrating the holiday because of Blair Sandburg.

***

"I'm sorry, Chief. So sorry. Simon was right, wasn't he? You're listening to me and you know the truth, but can you forgive me?"

There was no answer. Jim turned away. It was time to go - but before heading over to Simon's - he'd go past the Marina one final time.

Driving toward the bay, he thought he should call his father tonight. Steven too.

He caught a red light at Admiralty Way and, as he sat there drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he asked again another question that had been dogging his every step for the last four months: Why hadn't he been able to retrieve Blair?

He'd tried; God knew he'd tried. He'd fought to find the light, to go in after Sandburg, but nothing had happened. Why?

Was it because Blair's death in the fountain had been his fault, whereas at the park, Blair had died in the line of duty? Was that it?

Had _this_ death been ordained?

Even as he thought it, his mind screamed, "No! Blair's death was _wrong_!

Jim knew that it shouldn't have happened, that if he'd said the right thing - at the right time, Blair would still be alive.

He stared out his windshield and felt anger rise again only to be replaced by painful regret. "I should have told you, Chief," he said out loud. "Three words and I know you'd be alive now. I know it. It's funny because I understand that I can't change what happened, but I keep thinking about it, and ultimately come back to something you always in - that it was never too late."

Fingers tightening around the wheel, Jim asked, his voice almost reverent, "Is it true, Chief? Is it true that it's never too late?" He stared hard out the windshield and added something he should have said often to his partner - but had never said even once. "Okay, buddy, I trust you. You hear me? I believe you - and your words - so here it goes. You listening?"

He waited to the count of five, then said with all the pent up emotion inside of him, "I love you, Chief. I love you and need you - here, with me - now."

Nothing happened. Laughing almost hysterically, Jim noted the green light so he stepped on the accelerator and the truck jumped ahead. He didn't slow down until the Marina appeared on his left.

Gaily lit, holiday-decorated boats bobbed on the small waves but he had no desire to pull over. He felt suddenly hopeless. He turned his attention back to the road - which caused him to immediately jam on the brakes.

"What the hell?"

***

**"And time would heal all hearts…."**

Jim had never seen anything like it. One minute, the air, the city, had been completely clear, the night sky showing nothing but stars, but now, a slow moving bank of shimmering fog hovered a few feet above the road directly ahead of him. Grateful that no one had been behind him when he'd hit the brakes, he started up again, slowly, his detective senses on full alert. The wispy tendrils of fog seemed to be reaching for him, calling to him, and his suspicions disappeared - because it seemed right. It made no sense, but there it was. He _wanted_ to enter the mist ahead; take whatever happened.

Smiling his best cop "I've got you now" smile, he sped up. "Go ahead, take me," he challenged just as the front of the truck sliced through eerie fog.

A moment later, it was all around him; blinding him. But he kept moving.  
With a sudden perverse sense of humor, Jim started whistling the theme from the Twilight Zone - and the fog thickened instantly. He might have kept going, continued to dare the strange mist - and fate - but all his instincts kicked in, telling him that he was still a cop, a guardian, and that his actions were reckless. The need to protect others forced him to make his way carefully to the curb.

"Chicken shit," Jim muttered to himself as he turned the ignition key.

Feeling strangely penned in, Jim opened the door and stepped out. He walked around the front of the vehicle and stepped onto the curb. He was on the bay side and, even though the fog was swirling around him, it proved no obstacle now that his senses turned up. He moved unerringly toward the railing.

As he drew closer, the strange fog seemed to grow brighter. He could see the colorful Christmas lights on the boats, the shops and other decorated buildings outlined against the fog. He kept going, drawn by a strange necessity. The fog swirled and eddied, like the tide of the ocean. At one point, as the fog thinned for a moment, Jim was almost certain he could see the vaguest outline of a man looking out over the water. Heart lurching and hope springing up, he lengthened his stride.

He was almost there when the last of the fog…simply disappeared, leaving behind the same crisp night, starry sky, full moon, and Christmas lights twinkling on the bay. Music from the Pavilion floated across the water and Jim recognized the song as Silent Night. A strange tingle shivered its way up his spine and he started to breathe too fast - in time with his heart.

The closer he got to the man, the more substance his silhouette took on.  
Jim paused, just as confused as he'd been so sure of his movements a moment ago. The man looks so familiar - so unbelievably familiar. He held his breath even as he pleaded in a nervous whisper, "Turn your head."

As if he could hear the strained request, the man turned to the right, allowing Jim a clear view of the strong - and very well-known - profile. No longer uncertain, Jim started walking again, anxious to reach the man. Now he could identify the long black cashmere coat, the short dark curls just brushing along the turned up collar. He had one hand in a pocket of the expensive coat, the other gripping the railing as if it were the anchor keeping him grounded. His body language telegraphed a sad and pensive mood as he stared out over the water.

Heart thudding in his chest, emotion clogging his breathing, Jim drew up alongside him and placed his own shaking hands on the railing. With a sense of déjà vu - and without even looking at him, Jim said, "I figured I'd find you here, Chief."

"Hey, you know me. Can't pass up a view like this on Christmas Eve, man. I should have called, but you know I'd never be late--"

"Don't worry about it, Chief. Like I said, I knew you'd be here."

The words coming from his mouth seemed so completely right, but considering that he was standing next to a man four months dead, Jim thought he might be going insane - and if so, well, he was all for it, so he decided to go along with whatever the heck this was.

"Are you aware of the rumor circulating throughout the department that you're planning to ask someone to marry you?"

Blair continued to stare out over the water as he said, "No kidding? Is the rumor mill supplying a name?"

"Yep. Virginia."

Eyes fixed on the boats, Blair said nothing, but Jim had the feeling that Blair was in pain; hurting in a way that left him wanting nothing more than to fix him. Maybe he'd asked Virginia and she'd turned him down?

Just thinking such a thing increased the feeling that this whole conversation was both absurd - and impossible. All of which persisted as he turned to stare at his friend's profile. Blair was thirty-two and the young grad student Jim met six years ago was long gone. The man standing beside him now was older, dark curly hair showing a few threads of silver. His face had matured, but the last six years rested lightly in each wrinkle.

Jim didn't know if this was a dream or some cosmic joke, but he had nothing to lose by going with the flow.

"Why would anyone think I was going to ask Virginia to marry me?" Blair suddenly asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Why not? She's the one you've been seeing regularly."

"Well, yeah, because she's my study buddy. But come on, man, she's ten- eleven years younger than me. She's just a kid. Oh, and 'study buddy' is her term, not mine, God forbid."

New hope flared up with Jim as he asked, almost breathlessly, "Study buddy?"

"Yeah." Blair turned from the view and faced him. "Hey, _you_ didn't think I was dating her, did you? I mean, hell, Jim, don't you know that I'd have introduced you? But I'm serious when I say that girl is way too young for me. Man, even if I were twenty-five, Virginia would be too young."

"But Rhonda said she saw you buying a wedding ring, " Jim said stupidly.

Turning back to the water, Blair said softly, "Oh - that."

It was on the tip of Jim's tongue to say, "Yes, that. So who is she?" but something stopped him. A seventh sense that seemed to be for Blair, a sense designed for him alone, told Jim that this was it -this was his "it's never too late" second chance.

"Is there a ring, Chief?" he asked, his voice sounding both hopeful and gentle.

Blair nodded but continued to stare out over the water. From across the bay, another Christmas song started playing, this one about someone's grown-up Christmas list. With the fog gone, Jim was able to spot the source; a party at the Pavilion. He could see the guests mingling together, glasses of wine in their hands, their laughter drifting across the water with the song. He didn't recognize the tune, but he liked the lyrics.

"Yeah, there's a ring," Blair said, interrupting Jim's thoughts.

"So, what, you changed your mind about offering it?"

Blair nodded slowly.

"Why, Chief?"

Blair shrugged, "They're thinking about getting back with an ex."

Letting out the breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, Jim said as he moved closer, "Since the entire department misconstrued your meetings with Virginia, isn't it possible you're misunderstanding something?"

He could see Blair's forehead crease in thought, and he bit back a smile when his friend turned back to him.

"I suppose so," Blair said carefully. "Would you like to, maybe, see it?"

Heart doing flip-flops, Jim nodded. "I'd like to...very much."

Blair reached into a pocket and slowly withdrew a small velvet box. Without another word, he held out his hand, the box resting in his palm. Almost afraid, Jim took it and carefully pulled back the lid.

Nestled in white satin sat a wide silver band with a series of intricately engraved symbols.

"It's white gold," Blair whispered. "The symbols are--"

"Chopec for 'I love you'," Jim finished for him.

"Yes," Blair breathed out. "But of course, you'd know that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would, Chief. Yes, I would." Jim took the ring from its nest and let the moonlight, Christmas lights, and the street lamp, illuminate it. It sparkled in the now silent night, star-like rays shooting out from the silver circle. Even if he hadn't been a sentinel, he would have known instinctively that it was a perfect fit his ring finger.

"You know, Blair, life is all about second chances," he mused softly, entranced by the ring held between his two fingers.

Blair chuckled and said, "And here I thought it was all about sex."

Grinning now, Jim said, "Okay, let me amend that statement; life is all about second chances _and_ sex." Jim dropped his voice and added, "I know you don't understand what I'm saying, but I've just been given one. A second chance I mean, and that's left me far more bold - maybe more confident - than I've ever been about things like this." He took the ring and said with the surety of a man in the middle of a miracle, "This is for me, isn't it?"

There was a slight pause, then Blair said sentinel soft, "Yes."

"Would you...place it where it belongs?"

A breath caught in Blair's throat but, with a shaking hand, he took the ring back as Jim held out his left hand. That seemed to be the final signal for Blair and he grinned happily and in relief as he slipped the band over Jim's ring finger. It was, indeed, a perfect fit.

"I guess this makes me Jim Sandburg."

"Don't change the monograms on the linens, man."

His hand was still being held within Blair's protective grip and Jim smiled lazily as Blair's thumb ran over the band that now rested on his finger.

"I love you, Chief."

"Thank you, Jim."

Suddenly afraid that Blair was about to disappear, Jim pulled the younger man into his arms almost angrily. "You're not going anywhere, Chief, you hear me? You're stuck with me now and I'm not letting you go again," he said fiercely.

"No intention of it - ever. You're now my little woman, Jim."

Jim blinked at that, then grinned.

This _was_ real. He knew it now. He'd been given his second chance and it wasn't going to disappear. Two timelines had somehow converged into one. Later, much later, he and Blair would talk, but for now, he was content to live in the preciously given second chance and accept it for the miracle it was.

Laughing with abandon, Jim bent his head and tasted Doctor Blair Sandburg for the first time.

When they surfaced for a breather, Jim whispered into Blair's ear, "Let's go home."

"Sounds good to me. We have almost two hours before we're expected at Simon's."

Shocked, Jim reared back. "Simon's?"

Blair ran a finger tenderly over Jim's lower lip. "One kiss and your memory is history. Christmas party at Simon's tonight, remember?"

"Party. At Simon's. Right. In an hour, did you say?"

Blair gave a little tsking sound. "Almost two, Jim. Two hours." Then he grinned rakishly. "But hey, we can accomplish a great deal in a couple of hours, if we leave now. I'll follow you."

He started to move from Jim's arms, but suddenly afraid again, Jim held fast. "No. We'll go in the truck. We can pick up the Volvo later, like Tuesday."

Now it was Blair's turn to look puzzled and shocked. "Volvo? I haven't had the Volvo since - well, since - you know. The shooting. Billings totaled it when he tried to escape, remember? " Blair reached up and knocked on the side of Jim's head. "Hello? Anyone there?"

Arms tightening, Jim buried his face in Blair's short curls. Breathing in his scent, he asked, "Remind me, Chief? I think I'm finding you a little -- overwhelming tonight."

Chuckling, Blair shook his head in disbelief. "Billings tried to kill his wife, remember? I got to her and Daryl, you got to him, but not before he got off one shot. When you realized that I'd been hit, you rolled away from him--"

"He got up, stole one of the emergency vehicles, threw it into drive and took off," Jim interrupted - one memory now supplanting another.

"Right. Unfortunately, my car was in the way and the guy seriously underestimated old Volvos, man."

Jim closed his eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks. He drew back, opened his eyes and gazed down at Blair's upturned face. "I love you, you know," he said so quietly that only a sentinel, or a sentinel's soulmate, could have heard.

"I know, Jim. I know. Can we go home now?"

Jim nodded, tucked Blair into his side, and headed for the truck. "By the way, remind me what kind of car you replaced the Volvo with?"

"Over there. The snazzy blue Camero."

Jim looked -- and smiled. Pretty cool car.

***

Jim pulled into his parking spot and glanced over at Blair, who smiled secretively. Both men got out and almost ran into the lobby. They elbowed each other out of the way, each trying to be the first to the elevator. Blair won. He pushed the button and, when the doors slid open, grabbed Jim's jacket and pulled him inside. As it started to move, Blair pulled again and they kissed long and deep.

The journey to the third floor and loft was a combination of laughter and passion-filled kisses. By the time Blair got the door open, both men were panting. Blair kept tugging at Jim as he tried to get the bigger man inside, but Jim stumbled, hit the door with his shoulder and then hit on the head by something else.

"Okay, that's an 'ouch'!" He rubbed the top of his sore head as a laughing Blair bent and picked up…a Christmas wreath. He placed it back on the front door, took Jim's hand and said, "Come on, man, time's a wasting."

Blair turned on one light before latching onto Jim's lips again. The kiss took on an urgency that all previous kisses hadn't, an urgency that had nothing to do with Simon's party.

***

Jim was losing himself and it was a great feeling. His arms and legs were weightless and seemed happy to be attaching themselves to Blair. A part of him was aware that his partner was unbuttoning Jim's shirt even as Blair's tongue danced joyously within Jim's mouth.

The swirling vortex that was Jim's body screamed out that it was being bombarded and would soon lose all ability to function if a time-out wasn't called. With great reluctance, he managed to pull away just enough to speak. "Zone…I'm going to zone…."

Smiling dazedly up at him with dark, lust-filled eyes, Blair said, "No way, man. I'd never let that happen. Trust me."

Jim blinked, then grinned. "Two words I believe with my heart and soul, Chief."

"Hey, what happened to 'the two scariest words in the English language'?'"

Jim shrugged even as he slipped a hand inside the back of Blair's slacks. "What can I say? I've finally seen the light?"

"Well, hallelujah to the light."

Jim chuckled and started to maneuver Blair backward. His partner stumbled, but Jim caught him easily. Both glanced down and realized that the floor was littered with clothing. One suit jacket (Jim's), two coats, one shirt (Jim's) and one tie (Blair's). Blair gave a swift kick and the black cashmere coat slid out of harm's way. He was about to turn his attention back to kissing when he spotted the menorah on the coffee table. "Hey, how did that get there? I put it away back on the eighth."

With slightly glazed eyes, Jim looked in the direction that Blair was pointing and the real night; the night of just an hour ago, rushed back, as did the last four months. Jim stared at the menorah, then looked around his home.

Decorations.

A tree.

Candles and wreaths and lights around the windows with garlands hanging from the railing of the balcony. Warmth, light, masks, books, colorful pillows and afghans….

Blair.

Yet there - in the middle of the table - sat the only sign that Jim had lived a different four months: The menorah.

In a strange voice, he said, "I guess I…missed you."

An arm slid around Jim's waist and Blair squeezed. "Aw, Jim. It was only one day in court. Besides, I kind of figured that the break would do us - you - some good. You've been a bit distant of late, you know?"

Jim smiled softly. "Yeah, Chief. I know. But that's over now, I promise. New beginnings, right?"

"Sounds good to me." Blair reached up and with hands that could fly expressively when trying to make a point or punctuate Blair's sentences, he undid Jim's tie. When he had each end in hand, he began to tug. "Bed - now. We're running out of time."

Jim swooped down and captured those lips again. As the kiss deepened, Blair never let go of the tie. Both kept moving, with Blair pulling away long enough to redirect them to his room, saying, "No, my bed's closer--"

Chuckling, Jim allowed himself to be moved into the smaller room. Being surrounded by all things Blair was AOK by him.

Inside, Blair had to give up leading. The small lamp in the living room didn't provide enough light so the sentinel took over. He guided Blair to the bed, then surprised him by turning their bodies so that Jim could sit on the edge, Blair still standing, but now in front of him.

With only slightly shaking hands, he undid the younger man's slacks and pushed them down, along with his boxers. Sandburg's erection sprang free and bobbed enticingly before Jim.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "And mine," he added with a low growl.

Placing his hands on either side of Jim's head, Blair bent his until their foreheads were touching. "Yours," he whispered back. "But boy, how you kept me waiting."

Cupping Blair's ass, Jim began to make love to Blair. He nuzzled at his groin, teasing and caressing with his tongue, finally licking artfully at the now straining erection. Above him, Blair stared down with such love, that if Jim had seen it, he'd have broken completely.

When Jim took Blair's length into his mouth, he was rewarded by such a soul-deep groan that his own erection sprang back to life. As Blair started to pump in earnest, his hands now on Jim's shoulders, fingers gripping tightly, Jim closed his eyes and let his body and all his senses explore and enjoy, safely anchored by Blair's hands.

The taste and feel of Blair's dick in his mouth was sending chills up and down his spine, while at the same time, he could feel the sweat trickling down and gathering at the small of his back. His heart was pumping and it seemed to be keeping time with Blair's tight thrusts. When Blair came, it triggered the orgasm that ripped through Jim seconds later. He just managed to have the presence of mind to grab Blair around the waist and pull him down with him.

***

When he opened his eyes, it was to darkness. Jim blinked, focused -- then sat straight up and screamed Blair's name.

The echo of his yell was still vibrating throughout the loft when Jim bolted from bed, panic ringing in his ears.

A dream. It had been a FUCKING dream.

"No!" he yelled with the kind of horrible frustration that could bring tears to the most hardened of criminals. He jumped up and took the stairs on the run. At the bottom, he spotted a shaft of light coming from under the bathroom door…then he heard the blessed voice.

"What's wrong, man?"

Jim skidded to a stop just as the bathroom door opened and Blair walked into the living room. In his hand, he held a washcloth. Jim gulped and found that he couldn't speak. Tears sprang to his eyes and all he could do was shake his head back and forth, back and forth. The washcloth hit the floor with a squishy plop as a suddenly worried Blair moved quickly to his side.

"Jim? Please, you're scaring me here. What's wrong?"

God, he was so confused. Had they? What part of what was real? Was this real? Jim felt his knees give way and only Blair's arm around his waist kept him from falling to the floor. He felt himself moved to the couch and gently pushed down. He immediately closed his eyes and rested his head back on the cushion.

Bare feet padded away, then back and, a moment later, something warm and soothing was moving across his chest. He opened his eyes to find Blair kneeling beside him, washing him with loving strokes.

"Chief?"

"We managed to get upstairs for round two, remember? We were too exhausted to clean up, so when I woke up, I figured you'd appreciate this." He waved the cloth in front of Jim's face, then went back to washing.

Jim sniffed, then sniffed again. Sex. He smelled -- sex. Raw, undiluted, fantastic sex. He lifted his head, looked past Blair, and the first thing he saw was the menorah.

"Oh, God," he whispered.

Blair, sensing something strange, dropped the cloth and simply took Jim into his arms. After a moment, Jim's own arms found their way around him as Jim buried his head in Blair's neck. "Just hold me, Chief," he murmured. "Don't let go--"

"Never, Jim. Never," Blair promised with all that he had.

***

For thirty minutes, Blair held him; held him as he sobbed and held him harder as he finally quieted. He continued to hold Jim even as the sentinel part of him began a strange exploration of Blair's body, sniffing at his neck, ears, nuzzling at his hair, and using his hands to map as much of Blair's body as he could reach. When Jim ghosted his left hand up Blair's back, Blair felt him stiffen as gentle fingers found a new scar.

"This is it, isn't it?" Jim asked strangely. Blair nodded, not understanding, but not willing to rock the boat either. Jim was obviously going through something and all Blair could do was be there. He was good at that.

Slowly Jim pulled away and gently turned Blair just enough so that he could see the scar left by Billings' bullet. It was high and to the left.

"I twisted because I heard your yell," Blair stated quietly. "You saved my life. A little lower and--"

"I know," Jim said softly. "Believe me, I know." He leaned over and dropped the softest of kisses on the barely four-month-old scar.

"We should get ready, Jim. We're bringing the gi--"

"Ssh, just give me a few more minutes…."

Blair relaxed against Jim, content to give the older man anything he wanted - any time.

***

Megan sat on the window seat of Simon's front window and stared out over the lawn. She could have sworn earlier that it would snow, but the sky was still clear, the full moon casting its silver beams over the grass. She was feeling strange, but wasn't sure why. Behind her, other members of Major Crime and their wives, husbands, dates, or significant others were milling about, talking quietly. It sure didn't feel like a Christmas party.

She turned away from the window in order to look at her friends - her co-workers. Studying them, she realized they were caught up in the same thing she was, namely the waiting game. She watched Rafe give Simon's front door several looks, then observed both Henri Brown and Joel Taggart doing the same.

Everything felt wrong - yet right. And they were all just…waiting. She just wished she knew what they were waiting for.

Earlier that evening, when she woke from a strange nap, she found Peter bending over her, a smile on his face. "Hey, sleepy head, wake up. We've a party to go to, remember?"

She hadn't. At all. And suddenly, she did.

Megan rubbed the back of her neck. It was all so strange, she mused. She was just about to turn her attention to the view again when she spotted Simon staring at his front door.

He was waiting too.

***

Jim turned off the headlights, but didn't move right away. Beside him, Blair waited. "Chief, I should probably explain about this evening--"

"This better not be the part where you say it was all a mistake," Blair half teased and half warned.

"Not a chance, Sandburg. You're stuck with me, buddy. No, I mean…about what happened, you know, earlier."

"Jim, it's okay. It doesn't matter, does it, really? I'm here, you're here, and we're together. Our friends are inside waiting for us, it's Christmas Eve and, to top it off, we're in love. We make like festive, then blow the joint, head home, and fuck like--"

Jim's laughter drowned out the rest of Blair's words. When he finally calmed down, he said as he wiped his eyes, "God, I love you."

"Well, ye-ah," Blair said with a wiggle of his head.

Together, they finally got out of the truck, but not before Blair reached under the seat and brought out a red shopping bag.

"Chief?"

"Duh? Simon's gift? We were in charge of picking it out, remember?"

"We? I think not. You mean you."

"Of course - I am, after all, the only one with taste in the whole department."

"Come on, the night isn't getting any younger and neither are you, Sandburg."

As Jim stepped onto the curb, he didn't miss Blair's muttered, "Well, if I'm not, then neither are you --old man."

Jim bopped him on the side of the head. Blair waved his hand away, then scooted ahead of him and, whistling, started up the sidewalk to Simon's driveway. Jim watched a moment, then said softly, "Hey, Doc."

Sandburg stopped and turned around. Jim crooked his finger.

***

Megan took the drink Pete handed her and nodded when he asked her if she'd like some pretzels. No one was really eating any of the elaborate buffet because - again - it seemed they were all waiting for something. As Pete walked away, she looked back out the window and immediately sat up straight.

Jim.

On the sidewalk.

She frowned, though, because it was…just…Jim.

A kind of darkness settled in her heart and she sighed deeply. Then she noticed how Jim paused, grinned, and crooked his finger as if beckoning someone.

Megan strained anxiously to see who the 'someone' was, her heart beating so hard, she was sure Jim could hear it. Damn, there was no one there…which was right - and wrong. With an overwhelming sense of loss - for what, she didn't know, she glanced back at Jim - and a moment later - another figure came into view.

It was a man wearing a long dark coat. Megan's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the short dark curls.

Sandy.

As if caught in time, Megan watched as he walked slowly over to Jim and then stop - just out of reach - or so he thought. Jim cocked his head mischievously as reached out and hooked two fingers in Blair's belt. He pulled the younger man into him and Megan's world righted, the darkness lifted, and the sense of waiting dissipated.

Suddenly the sounds of laughter, Christmas carols, and clinking glasses surrounded her. She stood rapidly and turned away from the view of Jim kissing Blair to announce, "They're here, everyone! They're here!"

Simon rushed out of the kitchen, his dark gaze meeting hers. Something passed between them even as she noted the tension leave his body and his face clear of all worry.

There were over thirty-five people in Simon's house, but somehow, five of them managed to meet in the middle and move as one to the front door.

***

Blair watched as Jim's fingers hooked his belt and tugged. With no resistance, he moved into Jim's arms. "They're waiting, Jim," he whispered.

"Let 'em wait."

With that, Jim kissed him.

When they parted, lips red and eyes glazed, Blair lifted Jim's left hand and tenderly kissed the ring. At the same moment, small puffs of white drifted down from the sky to land amid his dark curls.

"It's snowing, Chief."

Blair lifted his face and more white flakes landed in dark lashes. "What do you know, we're going to have a white Christmas after all. Mom's going to be thrilled when she gets here tomorrow."

"Mom? Tomorrow?" Jim squeaked.

Before Blair could answer, a chorus of "Hey, you guys? Get in here, you're _late_!" rang out.

Blair twisted in Jim's arms and, grinning, yelled back, "Merry Christmas to you too!"

***

**...every man would have a friend - that right would always win - and love would never end...**

The moment the echo of Blair's last word faded, people spilled out into the night that was no longer silent. Laughing and tripping down the driveway, detectives swarmed around the pair, thumping them on the back and cheerily chastising their late appearance.

The only person still standing in the doorway was Simon.

He watched as Jim disengaged himself from the throng to stand back and allow the others to treat Blair as if they hadn't seen him for months.

For a moment, the jocularity faded and it seemed to Simon that on that Christmas Eve, only he and Jim stood in the night, the once again silent night. Their eyes met and Jim broke the mood by nodding happily. Simon let out a breath, reached out a tentative hand and observed the snow dropping onto his dark palm.

It was real. As real as the young man being led up the driveway by Simon's people.

Jim caught up with them, insinuated himself into the circle and, without preamble, slid his arm around Sandburg's waist. No one seemed surprised, other than Sandburg himself. One look at Jim's face however, gave him all reassurance he needed.

The party moved into the house and suddenly everyone was dying of hunger. The buffet table was swamped in seconds, and again it was Simon and Jim who hung back. They watched, much like parents, while the party goers jostled each other in fun, poked and prodded, stole food from one another's plates, tossed olives and traded food and jokes.

Dishes were filled with juicy slices of roast beef and succulent turkey, apple chestnut stuffing, candied yams, mashed potatoes and gravy, celery, carrots and peppers, sweet potato rolls, cranberry relish, and green beans in a tangy honey-mustard dressing. Wine was poured, along with cider and sodas. Neither Jim nor Simon were surprised to find that somehow, through no effort of his own, Sandburg's plate held the most food.

They were pleased when, as Simon's people left the buffet table, there just happened to be piled-high-with-food plates for them as well. Joel handed one to Simon while Henri handed the other to Jim.

Every surface in Simon's home was soon filled by eaters, plates of food and glasses of refreshment. Blair made his way to Jim's side and Simon pointed to the two comfortable chairs that flanked the other picture window.  
Somehow, they'd remained empty. The two men hurried over and claimed them, Simon following and actually sitting on the floor between them.

While they ate, they laughed, but couldn't explain why. The atmosphere of the party seemed almost surreal. Jim found himself reaching over every few minutes and simply touching Sandburg. During one of the touches, Simon noticed the ring on Jim's finger and one eyebrow arched. Seeing the look, Blair glanced over at his partner, who shrugged happily, giving him permission to explain.

"I guess you could say that I asked Jim to be my wife and he said yes," Blair teased wickedly.

Simon put down his fork and, staring at the two, finally said, "'Bout damn time."

"What's about 'damn time', sir?" Megan asked as she and Pete joined the group and took up residence on the floor with Simon.

"They're married," Simon said easily, a twinkle in his eye.

Megan's jaw dropped and Jim helped her out by flashing his ring. She finally gulped, and after letting out a whoosh of air, said a simple, "Wow, mates."

Pete reached out a hand and shook first with Jim, then with Blair.  
"Congratulations, you two. I'm surprised though. Megan's led me to believe that you were both clue--"

He got no further, thanks to an Australian elbow in his ribs. Blair took pity on him and said, "No, not clueless, just -- slow. And--"

"Clueless," Jim finished for him.

Pursing his lips, Blair nodded sagely. "Yes, that would be the word."

Their laughter exploded, but Megan managed to say, "Not so clueless if Sandy purchased the ring."

Blair and Jim looked at each other, then Blair said with a smirk, "It's nice to know that even clueless, Jim, the great detective, can figure things out, eh?"

"Detective of the year--" Simon started to say, but Pete, Megan, Jim and Blair, all held up two fingers and, wiggling them in Simon's face, said together, "Two years in a row!"

Their laughter burst forth again and Simon gave in and joined them.

***

The party was winding down with most of the guests having said their "good-bye's and "thank you's" to Simon.

Only Rafe and his date, Joel and his wife, Henri and his date, and Megan and Pete remained. Simon was futzing with his gift, a hand-carved manger scene from Nigeria, while the others cleaned up for their boss. They moved silently but happily throughout the house, gathering plates, drinks, and trash. As they passed one another, they shared secret smiles.

Simon looked up from arranging the pieces yet again and wondered if any of them would ever talk about the night. Probably not, he realized. Like that horrible - and miraculous - day at the fountain, some things were best left alone. You could marvel at them, cherish them, hold them close, but it was best not to bring them up because they might disappear. Happily, he went back to rearranging.

***

It was almost midnight by the time Jim drove them home. Blair was seated next to him, as in next to him, his hand resting possessively on Jim's thigh. They were both stuffed to the gills and feeling warm and comfortable. The snow had remained light, the flakes still falling from the dark sky and dusting the world with their brightness. The windshield wipers seemed to be singing and Blair was humming under his breath.

Jim had never felt such peace in his life.

Something on his left caught his eye and he flicked a glance in that direction and, for the third time in one night, he slammed on his brakes, his right arm automatically going out to keep Blair in place.

"Jim?" Blair asked after catching his breath.

"That," Jim said breathlessly as he stared at it from his window.

Blair looked around him and, puzzled, said, "It's the Good Shepherd Church, man. Midnight service, you know?"

Jim did a u-turn and pulled up in front of the lovely white building. Staring up at the white steeple, he said softly, "I need to go inside for a moment, okay? You can stay--"

"Aw, man, please don't say, 'stay in the truck'," Blair whined.

Chuckling, Jim faced his love. "Okay, I won't. But you don't have to come in. This is just something that…I need to do."

Blair made a little shooing motion. "Go, I'll wait."

Jim nodded, grateful for the understanding in Blair's eyes. He got out and joined the others who were approaching the church.

Blair, feeling a bit stifled, got out to stand on the sidewalk, watching as Jim disappeared inside the church.

Jim had never been an overly religious man, but Blair always suspected that underneath the "I can do it myself and don't need anyone" attitude ran a deep-seeded belief in something stronger, something…grander.

Blair had no clue as to what had happened to Jim tonight, or for that matter, everyone else at the party, but he too believed in a gentle hand guiding the world and, tonight, he'd been given his greatest personal wish. How could he not give thanks and celebrate that fact with Jim? Did it matter the nature of the building in which he gave his thanks? His years traveling the world told him that it could be in a hut in South America, a mosque in Africa, a synagogue in New York, a temple in Japan, his own bedroom, or ... a small church in Cascade.

With a smile, Blair followed Jim inside.

***

Jim took a seat in the back pew, not sure what he planned to do. A choir of children were standing at the front of the church, singing 'The First Noel' and, for a moment, he simply watched and listened. Someone slid in beside him and he didn't need to look to know that it was Sandburg. Blair's hand slipped into his and he caught a sentinel soft, "...in sickness and health, 'til death do us part - and beyond - I do."

A gentle smile graced Jim's face as he whispered, fingers tightening their grip on Sandburg's hand, "I, Jim, take thee, Blair, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part -- and beyond."

The End


End file.
